I Called to Say Goodnight
by AndAllThatMishigas
Summary: Lucien is away from home and calls his wife with a surprise for them both to cope with their separation.


**I Called to Say Goodnight**

Jean sat in the parlor, trying to concentrate on her sewing but failing miserably. Any little sound made her jump. As was always the way with things like this, the one time she actually wanted the phone to ring, it stayed frustratingly quiet.

"I'm off to bed," Charlie announced, poking his head in to say goodnight.

"Alright, Charlie. See you in the morning."

He paused before leaving. "Is the doc going to call tonight?"

"He said he would at some point, yes. But you never really know with Lucien," she replied with a small smile.

Charlie nodded and went to his room, leaving Jean alone in the silence.

Then, finally, the phone rang. She leapt up and, on a whim, decided to go into Lucien's empty study and close the door behind her. She sat at his desk and picked up the phone. "Hello?"

"Hello, love," came the soft voice on the line.

"It's rather late. Did you forget about me?" she teased.

Lucien chuckled. "Of course not. I called to say goodnight. But I wanted to make sure everyone was asleep first. I thought of a bit of a surprise for us."

"Oh?"

"You'll want to be behind a closed door," he cautioned.

Jean frowned. "I am. I'm in your study."

"Good." The smile in this voice was practically audible. "Now tell me what you're wearing."

"What I'm wearing?"

"Yes. I want to have a clear picture of you in my head. It's been nearly two weeks, and I miss my wife desperately," he told her.

"Lucien, what exactly is this surprise?" she asked warily.

"You're going to do to yourself exactly what I'd do if I were there with you. And you're going to let me listen to you."

Her eyes went wide and she nearly dropped the phone from her hand. But her heartrate quickened, and Jean felt a familiar stirring between her legs. "Alright," she replied, barely above a whisper. After all, he'd been gone for so long, and they'd both gotten used to a certain frequency with their lovemaking.

"Good. Now, tell me what you're wearing."

Jean described the clothes she had on, trying to keep her voice from trembling in nervous anticipation.

"Push your skirt up. Put your fingers exactly where you'd want me," he instructed.

She did as she was told, reaching her free hand into her underthings.

"Tell me what you're doing."

Jean honestly didn't know if she could. Her heart was pounding in her chest, like a caged bird furiously beating its wings. "I…I have my hand…where you said."

Lucien nodded encouragingly, even though she couldn't see him. He knew how difficult this must be for her, but he wanted so very much to try something new and feel close to her even when he was so very far away. His voice was barely above a whisper as he directed her. "Stroke yourself first. Gently. Softly. Just like I do with my tongue."

She shivered, recalling the precise sensations she'd felt when he buried his face between her thighs. Apprehensively, she tried to recreate it.

"Remember last month when I made love to you in that very chair. Close your eyes and remember, Jean," he murmured.

The sound of his voice was so soothing yet arousing. She wished she could feel his breath on her as he spoke. She closed her eyes and changed the position of her fingers, finding the exact place she needed. A small moan escaped her lips.

"Yes, keep going," Lucien encouraged. He clenched his teeth as he stroked himself. The sounds she made alone were practically enough to finish him off, but he wanted to prolong this for both their sakes.

Jean had begun to ease into a rhythm, reminiscent of when they were together. "Lucien," she breathed, imagining him there with her, that he was the one making her feel all the things she was feeling now.

"Use your fingers now. First one, in and out. Just like I do."

She balked initially, but she swallowed hard and followed his instructions. It took a bit of trial and error to readjust her legs and the way she was sitting to find a comfortable position. Everything was much easier when Lucien held her in his arms, moving her exactly where she needed to be, knowing her body better than she did. But that was certainly changing now.

"Now two fingers. Use your palm to rub against yourself."

"Oh…yes…" she moaned, finally understanding how he was able to do such things to her. He was revealing his masterful secrets to her, allowing her to do for herself what she'd never imagined before he'd first showed her.

"How does that feel, Jean? Tell me," he begged, knowing he was very close to climax, desperately needing the sound of her voice.

"It's…so good. I'm close…I'm…" Jean had to bite down on her lip to keep from screaming. Now that she was in control of herself, she knew just how fast and slow to go, exactly where to move and press, and she'd gotten herself right where she needed to be.

The muffled noise she emitted put Lucien over the edge. His pelvis jerked from where he sat on the hotel bed beside the telephone. He let out a visceral roar as he dropped the phone.

Jean heard the unmistakable sound he made, followed by a loud bang. She jumped slightly in surprise. Her hand slowed to a gentle, comforting touch as the electricity coursing through her body faded away. "Lucien?" Her voice was hesitant and breathless

He scrambled to pick up the receiver from the bedside table. "Yes," he replied breathlessly. "Sorry, everything alright?"

She had to chuckle. "Yes, I'd say so." Jean felt her cheeks grow warm, embarrassed by what she'd just done and for thinking about that sound he'd made. "Were you…were you doing what I was doing?"

"Yes, I couldn't resist, I'm sorry."

"No, don't be sorry, I just wish you'd told me." The feeling of gratification was making her bold, she knew, but she followed the bravery anyway.

Lucien was taken aback. "You do?"

"Next time," she said with a determined nod.

"Next time?"

"You won't be home for another week. And I know I was apprehensive at first, but now I'm a bit cross you didn't think to do this as soon as you left!"

He began to laugh. Jean never failed to surprise him. "I didn't think of it until today!" he defended. "But perhaps now I should extend the trip to give us more opportunity."

"Oh, don't you dare! Lucien Blake, you come home as soon as you can. This was…lovely. But I'd much rather you be here, rather than me doing it myself and pretending."

"I'm glad you enjoyed regardless," he said with a smile.

"Very much. And I hope you did as well."

"Of course. But I quite agree, this is a poor substitute for being together."

Jean smiled quietly for a moment. She spun the chair rested her elbows on the desk. "I miss you."

"And I miss you. But I'll be home before you know it," he promised.

They bid each other goodnight, professing their love before reluctantly hanging up their respective telephones. Jean put her skirt back as it should be before leaving the study on wobbly legs. Lucien knew he should shower before going to sleep, but he took a moment to gaze at the train ticket on the nightstand that stated departure for the following morning. He smiled, knowing he'd be able to make love to his wife in person and fall asleep beside her the next time he went to sleep.


End file.
